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... doors, either through unexpected paralysis or loss of consciousness from smoke inhalation, concussion, um  “Exposure to harmful chemicals,” my father interjects. “Greg! Are you getting this?” Greg’s eyes are locked onto a description of an aureole. “Yep.” “And exposure to harmful...

...Liz Marlow Copyright © 2020 Liz Marlow 2020 Liz Marlow The Halloween Spider for Clara While we paste pompoms onto construction paper with googly eyes swirling at a glittery green, gold, and blue web, I am reminded of our fragility: how many times have I felt the crunch of brown or black...

... the cellular walls of everything that foolishly chose to live here, to die here and not on another plane where it s too cold to grip onto loved ones, or too vacuous to hear their confessions I sense an atom bomb / in the words you re about to speak and if you re quiet for just a moment, we can both avoid...

....” In Bergson and the Art of Immanence: Painting, Photography, Film , edited by Mullarkey John de Mille Charlotte , 232 – 46 . Edinburgh : Edinburgh University Press . ———. 2014a . “Diffraction as a Methodology for Feminist Onto-Epistemology: On Encountering Chantal Chawaf and Posthuman...

... stoked our campfire by hefting the bodies of over a dozen of your sol- diers onto the pyre. Jacinto knew he’d never get a good night’s sleep until he apologized, so he stuck out his hand and offered a side of his face for Camilo to cut, his spilled blood a fair price for the humilia- tion caused...

... and daughter walked past me outside the window. I glanced back at them as the bus pulled onto the road. The mother pulled up the daughter's forest-green raincoat hood. She still wore a smile. My hiccups persisted. Did she love this thing to death? The bus came to a full halt. I skirted to the edge...

... cigarette. "We made love last night?" "It was great, but I've gotta book." He reached over to stroke her arm. She batted it away. "Fuck you, Eric," she said. Then she began to weep again. "See what I mean?" He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. Opening the door, he said...

... press diagonal pieces of scotch tape onto the corners of a sign inside the door, I catch bits of conversation from people checking out at the register. Did you hear another storm’s coming? That last storm was a doozy. The farmer’s almanac says there’ll be twelve more storms. The truck broke down...

... into the driveway and pushed it onto this tarp to get it here. I need you to help me bury it. I'm not strong enough to get it farther. The normally self-assured Hannah slunk back toward us, her body withered and trembling. I inched closer to it. It was big like a German shepherd. Its claws were clipped, its...

... the minnesota review We stare at him, urging him up with our eyes. I can hear Enok whine, but I am sure that Rasmus is too far away to hear him. This is worse than the glove. He is struggling. He rolls onto his side and then pushes himself onto all fours, like one of us. I can hear him breathing...

....” The girls take turns showing each other posts from their feeds. When Ada moves her phone, the mobile of Winnie the Pooh and Hello Kitty charms looped onto the bottom dance above the hand that's still on Sydney's knee. Sydney stares at the space between the rubber accessories and skin and wonders...

... not remember. The water moved over his body, his balls and shriveled old man’s penis. He paddled in a line, stroked briskly for ten yards, and when his breath left him, he turned over onto his back and filled his gut with air and pushed with his arms, churned the water with his feet. Above...

... crumble apart and say WHISPER ME ONTO THE CARPET. And then all this dust is holes. And then all these holes are pictures. minnesota review 84 (2015) DOI 10.1215/00265667-2857841  © 2015 Thomas Patrick Levy 44 ...

... Jesus saves and the devil lies to rebuke him like Cora taught Rosa in the name of her granddaughter, my mother, in the name of Ochún, the youngest of the saints or the grown-up baby girls wanting to recall the days before this pissy-punk carved his mug onto their frontal lobes. June Jordan said I m...

... to, models the bounds of the moon. We can’t stop but come in. A door makes sense. My idea of gender has to do with height. Or with the human ocean. A window opens onto the Midwest. We walk toward the mansion —​a mirage. You invest in your routines. Again a departure. We...

...Dean Young © 2015 Dean Young 2015 Dean Young Glorious Particles in the Atmosphere Aflame My dog loves being airborne. She leaps over the coffee table onto the couch. Never will we be sealed in the narcropolis again. Leaps when she infers a biscuit. A walk...

... room, at the unconcerned child unclasping her hand, exhibiting a citrine guinea-pig through framed fingers, tiny and still. City of Jewels. You asked for letters to be left on your bed; of course, spell out orange six-petaled tears onto the face of a child, some troubled years older now. It’s...

... all three for breakfast. It was late August. I tell him the textbooks say a star s death is magnificent and that the universe is kind to us, if only in the afterlife. He gulps in a freezing breath, the way a salmon flails in a bear s mouth: frantic. I plant a strand of sticky grass onto his eyelashes...

..., and there was a goose standing on the front step. It looked up at me, then took one step to the side making room for me to pass. So I did. What else was there to do? I walked out onto the lawn, picked up the paper, and walked back to the door. When I opened it, the goose stepped inside and waddled...

... I recognized by its shape. The signpost outside read, “The Planetarium at RVCC.” “Your mom and I used to come here on dates,” he said. “Really?” I said. “Really.” He smiled. “You walk down this tunnel and sit in a pitch-black room with the stars projected onto the ceiling...